


(in) parity

by Phosphorite



Series: (in) paragon [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Companion Piece, Friendship, M/M, onsens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phosphorite/pseuds/Phosphorite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have a super gigantic massive favour to ask," Gou breathes the words in rapid succession, and it reminds Rin of something distantly foreboding. It perks his senses up, long enough to brace himself for the rest until Gou adds, "I'm going to a hot spring for my birthday. Mother's paying for it. Will you come?"</p>
<p>Sometimes hope literally hurts when you think there's any chance of one day reaching the shore. Rin could be angry with himself for not having crushed the hope years ago to begin with, but that wouldn't make it hurt any less now.</p>
<p>[Companion piece to (in) parallel from Rin's POV, rating for later chapter(s)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Hi! This took me slightly longer to write than I intended, because Rin's POV is something that hits really close to me so I'm super critical about it I guess. The purpose of this fic is to provide a second glance into the story, to highlight all the ways we get wrapped up in our misconceptions of the truth, and how our insecurities manifest in very different ways. If you haven't read (in) parallel, I recommend you go do that first; you don't _have_ to, but the main narrative is more straightforward in Haruka's version, since this one is meant to compliment the original rather than act as a 100% stand-alone piece. I just basically wanted to exhibit how similar and different the characters are, which can also intentionally be seen in some of the narrative choices. But yeah, uh, I hope you enjoy this one too.

 

The phone call hits him on a Wednesday at precisely fifteen past two in the afternoon. He remembers, because he's spent those fifteen minutes staring down his geography homework and gnawing at the end of his pencil, and when he places it down to answer the phone, little more than a skeleton remains.

It's not a lengthy phone call. He picks up, because the display screams _mother_ and it's easier to answer now than to come up with excuses later. She asks him how he's doing, he tells her geography blows, and she lets out a sympathetic _is that so_ before going quiet for the three extra seconds that it takes for Rin to know that this is not going to be an ordinary call.

_Your sister has something to ask_ , is what she says, and there's a faint rustle where she passes the receiver on. When Gou's voice distorts the line, the cheerfulness that attacks Rin is over-exaggerated, like she's aiming too hard for carefree and coming off as cheerleader on crack instead.

_I have a super gigantic massive favour to ask,_ Gou breathes the words in rapid succession, and it reminds Rin of something distantly foreboding. It perks his senses up, long enough to brace himself for the rest until Gou adds, _I'm going to a hot spring for my birthday. Mother's paying for it. Will you come?_

Rin lifts a single brow. It's not what he anticipated, but then again he doesn't entirely know what he did. Not an invitation to an all-expenses-paid-for trip to a hot spring, anyway; hell, it sounds innocent enough, he lazily muses, and feels the first sibilant of _sure_ leaving his mouth before healthy suspicion kicks in and the rest of the word hits his teeth in a mangled mess.

_Why? What do you specifically need me for?_

Gou's voice goes from supposedly light-hearted to frantic in about two seconds flat, which only serves to confirm Rin's doubts.

_You already said sure! You agreed to it, so you can't go back on your word!_

Rin feels like groaning. He does.

_I didn't say 'sure'. I said 'sssu'. That isn't even a word to go back on._

What ensues is a brief back-and-forth of _did not did too_ and it takes Rin back by years, to afternoons spent hitting each other with comic books and Gou pulling on his hair, but before the two of them degenerate into 10-year-olds with a middle school vocabulary, their mother cuts in. When she speaks, an air of unusual pleading bleeds out of her naturally composed tone.

_Rin, I am only letting her on this trip if you go along with her. It's not that I don't trust her schoolmates, but they are all teenage boys and I don't think it would be appropriate. As her older brother, I hope you understand._

The recognition dawns on him in an instant, and something white and hot flashes through Rin as he grips the phone a little tighter. He doesn't mean for his voice to come out so acidic, doesn't intend for the raw irritation to catch him off guard, but he feels almost blindsided and stupid for not having seen this coming a mile away.

_If you're asking me to chaperone Gou and her swimming club, the answer's no. I don't have time for nonsense like that. I have practice and homework._

There's a brief silence, and when his mother responds, she sounds cordial in an altogether detached manner. Gone is the pleading, gone is the bargaining, until only dryness remains.

_I haven't minded that you're never home to visit, because I know you're working hard. I haven't minded that you're always so distant lately, because I know you're doing your best to concentrate. But I_ will _mind if you disappoint your sister on her birthday, simply because you now feel awkward around your childhood friends._

It makes Rin want to flinch and roll his eyes simultaneously; trust his mother to jump to overdramatic conclusions. Or has Gou been telling her things? What has Gou been saying about him and the Iwatobi boys anyway? He... he doesn't have time for any of this.

_I don't give a damn who it's with. I'm busy. Get someone else to do it._

_I suggest you watch your attitude_ , his mother says calmly, and there is something very disarming in her voice – not because Rin specifically feels like siding with her, but because she intentionally leaves him no choice. _Listen, she's really looking forward to this. Do you suppose I should just let her share a room with one of the boys?_

It distracts him long enough to give life to the mental image of Gou spending the night huddled up under the same blanket with one of his former teammates, and Rin's mouth twists into a grimace. Who would she even share a room with? Nagisa? Rin would break the neck of that little shit before he so much as glanced Gou's way. Makoto? Okay, Rin doesn't know if he wants to take on Makoto because the guy could probably give even Mikoshiba a run for his money, but the thought makes his eye twitch in irritation anyway. The Ryugazaki kid? Rin's pretty sure he's surgically attached to Nagisa at the hip, which would technically make it a threesome, _no_ , fuck, abort that thought, all of his options suck, all of––

_Haru_.

The name leaves his lips before he properly even realizes it, like another side somewhere deep within Rin takes over and speaks on his behalf amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

_Gou could share it with Haru. He'd never try anything, would never do anything to hurt her. He probably doesn't even realize she's a girl._

As the words pour out of his mouth, Rin feels as confused as the sudden silence does on the other end of the line. He doesn't know why he says it, but he does, and the worst thing about it is that it makes sense: there's no-one he'd trust his sister with more than Haruka. The thought might twist something away at his insides, but he's perfected the art of holding that emotion in place before it wanders off, the way he has been doing ever since his return to Japan.

When his mother lets out a thoughtful sound, Rin can almost visualize her nodding away at the receiver.

_You're right,_ she says, voice oddly content, _If it's Nanase-kun, I won't mind._

The side of Rin's mouth curves upwards, just slightly, with or without his will. But he has no time to think about what it might mean, because once his mother speaks anew, it sends Rin's thoughts into a spasm, forcing his expression to fall.

(Long after his face sets in a dumbfounded surprise, something inside him keeps falling.)

_Then it's settled. You'll be sharing a room with your sister and Nanase-kun on the trip. I expect to see you pick Gou up on Saturday afternoon._

It's the voice that accepts no excuses, no disagreement, no dissent. Rin _knows that voice_ , and it's what sends a surge of panic through him as he hastily chokes on his words, trying to get her to change her mind. (It's futile and he understands, because the second his own voice loses the momentum of self-indignant disdain, his mother cuts through his defenses with eighteen years' worth of experience in dragging him kicking and screaming out of bed in the morning.)

_Mom, I can't–– You can't make me––_

He can almost hear the exasperated look in her voice when she cuts him off.

_Oh, grow up, Rin_ , she breathes into the receiver, then hangs up.

Rin is glad Nitori's attending a study group session, because when his geography book hits the wall five seconds afterwards, Rin doesn't feel like having witnesses to justify his mother's final sentiment.

 

 

 

Of course, Rin knows to expect the look he finds on Gou's face on the day he comes for her.

When Gou shows up at the top of the stairs with a carrier bag slung over her shoulder, she visibly stiffens for a moment and eyes at Rin suspiciously. In all fairness, she probably has good reason to, because it's not as if Rin hasn't run the conversation over in his head a hundred times on his way from Samezuka.

On the train, he's practiced each and every line until they sound appropriately condescending: he will start with _When are you going to learn to stop messing with shit that does not concern you_ , perhaps throw in an _Aren't you supposed to be too old for these games anyway_ , then finally end with _I hope you're happy with yourself, you stupid meddling runt_. Because he's not a vicious person by nature, to make it sound plausible he plans to follow the latter through with a sneer, or maybe an added hair flip for, you know, just some dramatic effect. (Well, the jury's still out on that one.)

But then the look sets on Gou's features and Rin understands how pointless the argument would be, with or without any feigned malice. It's one he's seen a thousand times before, trademarked by moments of self-righteousness that Gou secretly feels guilty for; when confronted, her cheeks will puff out like a pufferfish, hands balling into fists by her side. Her red eyes will sparkle and thunder with what may appear to be unwavering confidence, but in reality all it serves is to disguise Gou's fear of overstepping her boundaries.

Rin knows, because she probably picked the habit up from him to begin with.

That is why he doesn't bother dragging this on for any further than it needs to last. At once, he knows that Gou is and is not sorry that she's forcing him to do this, and none of that is going to change. In the years he spent seeing her only on holidays, Gou has grown into a headstrong, independent young woman, and while part of him feels annoyed at her newfound confidence, another cannot help but respect her for it all the same.

"Come on kid, let's get going," he just sighs, beckoning at the door, and Gou's face breaks into an impish smile.

 

 

 

Gou's red ponytail bobs along cheerfully as she walks a few steps in front of Rin, talking about the things she's looking forward to the most: whether the yukatas are patterned or plain, if the view from their room is nice, if there'll be a lot of old women at the hot springs that she has to battle to the death for a great spot. Rin feels his mind drifting in tune with her voice, peaceful in its familiarity; in the past year he has taken to spending more time at home on weekends, and Gou's relentless enthusiasm has slowly taken off the edge of the worst of his unease.

It's a double-edged sword, though, and he knows. Allowing Gou to pull him into the nostalgic world of their childhood does something strange to his heart, every time, like wrapping a protective layer of soft gauze around it. But at the same time, he cannot help feeling guilty for the false hope coming alive in Gou's eyes, as she undoubtedly imagines herself skidding past the signs that scream _road closed ahead_ on Rin's mental map. It used to aggravate him, seeing her try so hard, but lately all he feels is sorry that she wastes so much time running down a path that only leads to rubble and fragments of a life Rin is finding harder to remember by the day.

The hope in Gou's expression is even more painfully self-evident when they reach the station and find Nagisa and Ryugaza–– no, Rei, waiting for them by the ticket booth. When she calls out to her friends, there's the slightest discord of nervousness in Gou's voice that only Rin detects, and he realizes she hasn't told them about his arrival either.

Sure enough, Nagisa looks surprised, but his face is soon awash with a radiance Rin finds unexpectedly difficult to stomach; Rei, on the other hand, shoots him a glance full of open suspicion, and Rin's not entirely sure how he's supposed to counter either one.

For what it's worth, the two cordially wait until Gou's done feeding notes to the vending machine to comment on his presence. Once it's clear she holds two tickets in her hand instead of one, Nagisa's grin stretches like a feral creature. "Rin-chan's coming too, right? He is, isn't he?"

For a brief moment it almost strikes Rin as comical – like someone's pulled Nagisa straight out of a cheesy infomercial. Next to him, a frown knits Rei's eyebrows together; it's obvious he does not share Nagisa's naked delight, which is something Rin can almost empathize with. He doesn't know what to make of Nagisa's thrilled response either, for all the ways in which it feels out of proportion given Rin's own, aloof nod.

(But then, Nagisa's always been that way, squeezing himself in through the smallest of openings just to be seen, raising his voice with a laugh so he'd be heard; it's as disarming now as it was on the day Nagisa coaxed Rin into giving him a shot on his team, and Rin wishes he wouldn't think about this right now but he does.)

"Your bad influence would rub off on me too much if he didn't," Gou responds to Nagisa's question in a light-hearted manner, and when she and Nagisa snigger at one another in a tone that is too conspiratorial for Rin's liking, he is almost prompted to add _as if it already hasn't_.

He still feels the weight of Rei's stare on him, though. Raising a single brow, he sort of expects Rei to utter something blunt that will give Rin the excuse of acting like he wasn't listening. However, Rei just shifts his glasses, and the mild animosity Rin waits for never materializes in his voice.

"I hope we all enjoy our time together, Matsuoka-kun," Rei says, instead, and it leaves Rin wondering if it's just a front he puts up simply because of Nagisa. (It sort of feels more unnerving if it's not.)

But the following moment demolishes this thought with the sound of light footsteps approaching the station, and Rin doesn't have to turn his head to know what happens next.

Because somewhere at the edge of his consciousness he can feel Haruka coming alive, cutting through a rift in his memories and slamming into the reality Rin spends every day pretending does not exist anymore; and when he senses Haruka staring directly at him (into him), Rin instantly understands that he never, never thought this thing through at all.

(And then something is collapsing and erupting within him at once, in the slow seconds that pass once Rin realizes that he has walked into this battle unarmed; and he hates it hates it hates it hates it and then it's too _late_ )

"You invited Rin-chan?" comes the gentle sound of Makoto's voice next to Haruka, and it ruptures Rin's senses with an air of unexpected comfort. Makoto's tone is not accusatory in the slightest, which intuitively prompts Rin to tear his eyes off the pavement. He's braced for the worst, but the look on Makoto's face is friendly, accepting even – it takes Rin by surprise, long enough to return the question with a genuine nod.

A tiny, defiant part of Rin feels almost embarrassed at how easily Makoto is able to drain his unease, even after all this time, but a far bigger part simply feels relieved and grateful for the familiarity. It works, as long as he keeps his gaze fixed on Makoto's calm, smiling face. Somehow, somehow this feels imperative.

(Because he knows of the dry ice in the blue eyes that still pierce right through him, and some uneasy physical weight holds Rin down; he cannot turn his head, only to bear witness to that listless, blank expression like so many times before; cannot take that chance, for fear of unconsciously searching for the _Haru_ still trapped somewhere in the folds of time, and finding nothing, nothing at all echoing back in Haruka's stare.)

The station ripples with an atmosphere of strained curiosity. Even Rin's mild concession of civilized behaviour towards Makoto obviously does not stop Gou from experiencing an acute case of guilty conscience, now that Haruka's here and they all know how this is going to go.

"It's my birthday," she states, and her tone is so conflicted that Rin feels the strangest urge to tell Gou to shut the hell up.

He almost knows to expect the feeling when it hits, really. He's been here before. And sure enough, it takes a heartbeat for all of Rin's restlessness to pave way for a sudden rush of adrenaline and then he's _angry_ again, because anger is all he seems to ever be good for these days.

He wants Gou to stop sounding so apologetic. He wants Gou to wipe that desperate look off her face. But most of all, he wants Gou to stop offering Haruka all these pointless excuses in exchange for his approval, when she never even pretended that Rin had a way out of any of this; it–– it leaves him feeling so _frustrated_ , in ways Rin cannot quite identify, because he knows this scene by heart: they're all walking on eggshells around Haruka, like he's a deaf and mute newborn child, like it's a privilege to earn his good graces. Like the whole fucking universe orbits around him.

It's starting to drive Rin abso-fucking-lutely nuts. Haruka Haruka Haruka always Haruka. The irony of it all is that for all Rin knows, Haruka probably doesn't give a shit what Gou has to say in her defense, and it aggravates him that they're so mentally wrapped around Haruka while Rin wants nothing as much as to mentally evaporate.

Of course, the physical anger passes as quickly as it comes. He feels his face relax, his fist unclench, because the aggression is only momentary, only there to disguise the layer of emotions hidden underneath. Deep down, Rin actually feels almost dumbfounded at the amount of bitterness Gou has been able to gauge out of him with that single gesture alone, triggering a deep-rooted anxiety he didn't even realize he had been harboring; it's not enough to break his composure, but what it does instead is kindle a strange kind of fire in the pit of his stomach, one that feels distantly familiar and frightening all at once.

(It's the first sign that makes him hesitate, momentarily, if agreeing on this trip was actually one of the worst decisions he could possibly make.)

But Haruka just stands there, and says nothing.

Somehow it aggravates and frustrates Rin even more.

Afterwards, he doesn't remember what any of them speak of, if anything. There's a slow hum, like a buzzing feed in his head, refusing to die down even after they board the train. Rin takes a seat on the aisle next to Gou, Haruka still says absolutely nothing, and Rin's head just won't stop humming.

He knows why he's here now. Of course he knows. Of course.

Because there's a tiny cocoon of hope inside of Gou that she still tends to with meticulous care, convinced that one of these days Rin will become as close with the Iwatobi boys as he once was; but she doesn't understand, doesn't want to understand that it's not as simple as waving around a magic wand made out of shark fins and dolphin cries. It's not as easy as Gou thinks it is, because Rin's not the only person shredding through the pages of this pre-scripted play.

(Or rather, at times like these it feels like he is – literally, the only person caught up in a strip of film that repeats itself over and over while everyone else got up, went home, and moved on with their lives.

He wants to move on, too.

Why is it so wrong for him to want that, anyway?)

His eyes instinctively flicker across to where Haruka is sitting. Haruka, whose expression has remained unchanged for the past fifteen minutes; Haruka, who doesn't so much as entertain Rin's existence with a single twitch of his nerve.

Rin cannot help another twinge of anger that follows in its wake, like something is pulling him inside out, and when his head snaps back with enough vigor to let out a _crack,_ he's pretty sure Gou can tell.

 

 

 

The anger subsides, eventually.

Maybe. Sort of.

Rin's not entirely sure if it dissolves rather than just assumes a different form in the recesses of his adrenaline-fueled veins, because by the time they reach the tiny mountain town and start trekking up the hill to the hot springs, Nagisa suggests a race, and it sounds to Rin like the best idea Nagisa's ever had in his life.

Perhaps it's to Rin's fortune, too, that Gou vehemently disagrees with this. He feels her tugging on his sleeve after less than two minutes in, face streaked with sweat and looking like a mess. When she pants at him, _if I have a heart attack, mother's going to slash your allowance_ , Rin grimaces initially in response, but then crouches to allow Gou to wrap her arms around his neck. It's been ages since Rin has carried his sister piggy-back, but the effort still comes to him naturally. It's not a bad feeling.

Of course, Rin forgets this the second he lifts his head and finds Haruka staring right back at them further up the hill, and freezes dead in his tracks.

It makes him, it makes him feel––

(something, that passes in a heartbeat, leaving only the distant echo of waves crashing in his ears)

––confused, because even from a distance he can tell the exact shade of blue that flashes in Haruka's eyes, like an electric cobalt; the way that solemn face is suddenly alight with something concealed but poignant at the same time; and it catches Rin off guard, no, it catches both of them off guard, because Haruka's expression looks as surprised as it does... transfixed, almost, and for a moment there is something so undeniably _tangible_ to his gaze that it makes a thousand alarms go off in Rin's head.

_no you can't you're not supposed to why are you why did this what are you trying to_ do

He yanks his eyes away, unable to help it; feeling Gou's arms heavy around his neck, he swallows down hard. (This time, he's sure Gou can tell.)

He doesn't know what to make of the sudden flash genuine emotion on Haruka's face. (Genuine emotion?)

He doesn't know if he's _ready_ to process that possibility, lest it give him false hope. (False hope?)

But something warm spreads across Rin's chest anyway, and in order to keep himself from having to confront the rest of that feeling, he dashes into a sprint; Gou yells out, "Hey! We're gonna win this race!" and it inadvertently makes him smile.

For a moment he doesn't remember who he is supposed to be.

For a moment it feels good.

It continues to feel good, until the scene breaks, and Haruka still says nothing at all.

 

 

 

It's not as if three seconds is enough to change the course of history.

It's not as if Rin knows what he was expecting, anyway.

When they later stand by the reception and Gou informs everyone of their sleeping arrangements, Haruka barely bats an eye. Rin doesn't know if the electric cobalt in his eyes has faded to a muted prussian blue, because Haruka avoids his gaze again, and Rin spends the minutes acting like he's never seen an air conditioner in his life before.

The rest of their group seems more or less amused with the arrangement, but cannot argue with Gou's logic. It's not until Gou recites their mother's words about trusting Haruka that the air in the hallway suddenly thickens with a heaviness Rin doesn't know how to identify or dispel, but no-one comments on it, and Rin pretends like he doesn't care.

He thinks he doesn't care. But there's a lot of things he's finding it hard to be sure about lately, and so something inside him breathes in relief when Gou changes the subject and hands the other keys over to Makoto. The strenuous discomfort is back, though, the second he remembers what the absence of Makoto, Nagisa and Ryugaza–– Rei inevitably also means, as the sounds die down and Rin's protective, idle chatter is drained along with their retreating footsteps.

Talking to those three, it hasn't been so bad. Hell, he can admit to as much. In the past hours they have provided welcome distraction in the form of lighthearted conversation, and to his surprise, Rin has noticed that the strings of words he's participated with have kept growing longer by the hour. It's not like coming off as a dick would win him any karmic points of justice; a disdainful facade would be wasted on Nagisa and Makoto anyway, since they literally fail to buy into it. It's hard to act impartial when their friendliness is so contagious, and although Rin hardly knows Rei yet, he's had little to lose by humoring each and every one of them in turn.

(Maybe, deep down, he's enjoyed acting normal; enjoyed thinking that it's alright like this, ignoring the shadow that trails them with each step. Because it's shaped like their memories, shaped like his past, shaped like the one person who still refuses to speak to him even when he's standing less than a feet away across the hall.)

It takes a herculean effort not to glance over his shoulder, to check if Haruka actually follows in tow once Rin takes after Gou and heads for their room. Gou's mouth is moving and her voice plays a game of ping pong with Rin's automated responses, and something keeps pulling him down, down into the murky waters against his will.

Would it be easier if Haruka flat out refused to follow? Would Rin even want him to? All of these are questions he knows essentially hold two answers: the one where he gains agency and decides for the both of them, and the ones that lurk far deeper in the shadows and cannot bear the light of day. Rin's not stupid enough to think this isn't the case, but it's still a long way off from actually pointing a flashlight at the corners and finding out for sure.

Is that why he finds it impossible to do little else than to just stand there like some kind of floundering muppet, when they reach the room and Gou disappears into the bathroom to change into her yukata? Maybe. Or maybe it's the fact that it's becoming increasingly tedious and awkward to try and dodge Haruka's gaze when he's _right fucking there_ and Rin kind of feels like they're twelve, no, six years old because he was able to _do this_ when he was twelve, to act like a human being and not some sort of anxiety-ridden wet blanket just because he's––

(Because what?)

His thoughts hit a wall, and something strains and snaps inside of him, trying to reach for the answer.

Because... it makes him so _frustrated_ , that they're doing this in the first place, that Haruka's allowing this to happen, that he doesn't even seem to _fucking mind_ how insufferably juvenile this is when he's–– they're–– this––

And all of a sudden Rin knows what it feels like, knows what Haruka's presence has reminded him of since the moment they stepped on that train a few hours ago.

_All of this is like wading through a bed of reeds._

It's like sensing something vaguely uncomfortable creeping in while he treads the water; like desperately trying not to think of the unknown lurking in the depths, never knowing just how deep the terror runs. And the worst thing, the absolute worst thing about it is that Rin can literally feel every single nerve in his body on standby, as though anticipating the moment when he comes across the one thing that feels _off_ for the shortest of seconds, so that all the defense mechanisms he has carefully crafted in the past months will jolt into overdrive.

Isn't it just another way of stalling the inevitable, anyway?

The humming in his head intensifies, and the thoughts crawl through the ripples before he can pretend they don't exist.

_I don't I don't I don't I don't I don't t know if I want to_ know

_what I might find in the very depths of you_

(It's easier to keep treading the reeds forever, than to swim – and sink.)

"Onii-chan, could you look for my hair accessories? There should be two kanzashi flowers somewhere in my bag."

Gou's voice yanks Rin back to reality with enough vigor to make his entire body spasm. It's not until then that he notices how tense he is, how dry his mouth has run. Swearing under his breath, Rin tries to kick his mind into motion, and lunges at Gou's bag with enough vitriol to kill a man. But the thoughts, they won't leave him alone, and suddenly his heart is weighed down with a desolate helplessness that surges through the tiny cracks in his barrier.

_Shit shit shit shit shit_ rings through Rin's head on a constant loop of broken audio, and as the dread proceeds to seep through his limbs it makes his hands tremble which makes his aim miss and for fuck' sake what the _hell_ is a kanzashi flower anyway; because all he manages to fumble for at the bottom of Gou's bag are weird palettes of browns and greys along with brushes of confusing shapes and sizes and _god fucking damn it––_

"Why the hell did you pack ten tons worth of makeup," he says with an exasperated groan, tinged with more despair than Rin probably intends to let on; instinctively, a part of him prays Haruka doesn't pick up on it in the second before Gou responds.

"Why did _you_ pack your jammers," she sharply calls out, and it does little to make _anything_ better, because in those few words alone Gou manages to dismantle him even further. Rin feels his cheeks flush before he knows what he feels so embarrassed over, and he wishes he could tell why it feels so excruciatingly private, somehow, to have Haruka bear witness to this conversation taking place in the first place.

It kind of makes him want to disappear off the face of the Earth. God, he feels like a fourteen-year-old girl in an 18-year-old athlete's body, and so a silent _whatever_ is all he can muster up in response for his voice to conceal how completely out of loop he feels. And so he channels all of his focus and concentration on those stupid, damned flowers, like somehow his self-respect hangs entirely on a pair of hair accessories, but still his fingers find nothing but jagged edges, nothing but sharp angles, nothing but––

"Here."

Rin literally feels his eyes growing wider the moment he feels Haruka's voice at the base of his ear.

The softness and warmth of Haruka's breath sends an unintentional shiver down Rin's spine, and when Haruka's arm pushes past his and reaches into the bag, their skin momentarily comes in contact. Haruka's fingers fall short from touching Rin's own; instead, they find what Rin has frantically been looking for (he could curse at the imminent symbolism there before he mustering up the effort to ignore it altogether), and when Haruka leans back, he's holding two beautiful fabric flowers in the palm of his hand.

"The makeup is on the bottom," Haruka says, and his voice is clear, like he's infuriatingly immune to the nervousness and conflict raging on within Rin, "Gou-chan packed it first, so she wouldn't forget. Accessories are probably second. Everything else, on top. That's how we used to layer our training gear."

The heat on Rin's face intensifies, and the warmth spreads from his cheeks through his body like wildfire, reaching into lonely corners of his soul with each syllable that passes Haruka's lips. Something heavy and almost painful coils around Rin's chest to the tune of the _we_ 's and the _used to_ 's, because they're gone long before Rin can reach out and cut them out of time. The sudden realization of how fervently he wishes he could do this, to have something physical to hold onto once Haruka goes silent again, well it... kind of makes it harder for Rin to breathe.

When Rin initially fails to respond, Haruka's expression turns strangely hesitant, vulnerable almost, and Rin might linger on it for longer if he wasn't already fighting a losing battle to get more than one word out of his mouth.

He can't... he cannot deal with this. Rin knows that now.

Something inside him is breaking at each sudden shift in tone and mood that is not anchored onto anything tangible; he has caught Haruka breaking the script twice now, but for each tentative sign of life there are a hundred dispassionate rejections in the form of averted eyes and meaningful silences, and Rin doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

(because the hope, it literally _hurts_ , when you think there's a chance you might ever reach the shore; and Rin might hate himself for not having crushed that hope years ago to begin with, but that wouldn't make it hurt any less.)

"Thanks," he finally just breathes out, and something in Rin's head keeps spinning even after Gou calls him out to the bathroom to help out with her accessories.

The face that gapes back at him in the mirror is drained and pale, like someone stranded at sea. His fingers work absent-mindedly as they hasten in Gou's red hair, attaching the clips in the general direction of her request. Gou snaps at Rin twice, insisting he's not even trying to make an effort at getting it right, but the room lapses in silence as soon as she realizes his retorts never arrive; Rin is too busy staring at his reflection, the disconcerting trace of the emotion that settles around his eyes.

Nervousness? Unease? Discomfort?

_Fear?_

When did he become so... weak, anyway?

He shakes his head, vigorously, suddenly inexplicably annoyed again. The rollercoaster of his emotions has sped past in loop-de-loops and twisted turns for hours now, but this has got to stop.

This... this is bullshit.

Why has he been so afraid of having to confront the listlessness in Haruka's gaze? Why has he been so paralyzed by the thought of bearing the full brunt of Haruka's detachment? If that's what it is – if that's what he's so goddamned afraid of, then it's time he owned up to reality and faced his demons head on. It'll make him stronger, he tells himself, it'll make Rin shed the final remnants of this foolish hope that still clings to the past and longs for things that can never be again.

So fucking what if Haruka doesn't give a shit? Haruka hasn't given a shit in years. It's nothing Rin did not know the moment he agreed to this trip, and to think otherwise would be to admit naïvety.

No, he cannot, he won't, he refuses to be afraid anymore. Haruka doesn't have the _right_ to make him afraid, and the sheer irritation that follows that thought is enough to instill a new kind of resolve within Rin.

It's not too late to turn this around. It's not too late to bounce back. As much as something about Haruka's very presence keeps pushing him to his mental limits, Rin can recoil if he puts his entire heart into it, if he stops wallowing in self-pity and summons the remaining traces of his pride. He's being absolutely pathetic and he knows, but he's still Rin fucking Matsuoka and all of this can end if he wills it so.

All of this will stop. He'll make sure of it, even if it's the last thing he does.

It starts with walking out of the bathroom, it starts with changing into his yukata without an ounce of his former restlessness. It starts with a furious, resilient part of Rin physically pushing the fear into the very recesses of his consciousness, past the boundaries of his self-confidence, sealing it shut until he can look Haruka directly in the face without a single second guess.

When he does, something unreadable briefly passes on Haruka's face, but it dissolves before Rin could even hope to decipher it's meaning.

By the time he's done convincing himself he doesn't care, Haruka's already followed Gou out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! For some reason all my early drafts seemed so nonsensical and jagged, but I quickly realized writing Rin is very different from writing Haru – Rin IS nonsensical and jagged at his worst (and the story takes place in a vacuum where the finale never happened, as I wrote the original during the aftermath of episodes 9 and 10), so I guess the narrative has to reflect that. Anyway, thank you everyone for continuing to read, your comments mean a lot to me!

The thing about the past is, for some people it winds down a very different path than it does for others.

Rin finds himself thinking about this, more than once, as the day drags on.

He thinks about it when Nagisa waves a mobile phone in his face and insists on taking his picture, he thinks about it when he struggles to pull his laughing sister from beneath the dinner table, he thinks about it when Makoto's fingers hasten around Rin's wrist and an enthusiastic smile sets on that calm, empathetic face. Rin thinks about it when the warmth of the hotplate paints his cheeks with a heated flush, because it must be that, must be, instead of some far more treacherous trace of dormant friendship that tries to inch its way up to his chest.

"Gou-chan one, Rin-chan zero!" Nagisa cheers while throwing his arms in the air, and it's hard not to smile, too, when Nagisa's grin stretches from Rei to Makoto to Gou. For a moment Rin forgets himself, again, and his instinct lets his eyes trail off to the boy seated next to Rei.

Haruka has already met his gaze halfway, though, and the blue of his eyes is dark like the sea at night. There is something–– depthless, to that stare, and for a split second Rin thinks he recognizes what it is but then it's–– gone, pushed to the recesses of Rin's mind by the one part that refuses to think, refuses to allow his former resolve to waver.

Sure enough, Haruka recoils when he catches Rin staring, and the moment breaks like it has done countless times today.

Really. Rin could start putting them down on a bingo card. Maybe he'd win a microwave.

The thought might make him laugh if it wasn't also so terribly mirthless in tone. But he doesn't care anymore, does he? This... this is nothing he doesn't know already, nothing he cannot handle. They're both just moving onto the next page of the script, and everything here is exactly as it's supposed to be.

And yet...

A tiny, miniscule part inside Rin cannot help thinking that something feels off about Haruka's silence, right here, right now. He's doing his best to keep his mind from overanalyzing every single twitch and flicker of Haruka's composure, but somehow all of it is happening in reverse: the less Haruka moves, the more Rin notices. Almost as though Haruka's obscurity is intentional as much as it's also habitual, almost as though...

It can't... no; Rin mentally shakes his head, because he cannot afford such thoughts – cannot allow them to tamper with the part of Rin's heart that isn't occupied by the sudden, bewildering warmth of friendliness from every other person in the room. He still remembers his promise, remembers the rush of determination and the need to _overcome this_ , and so Rin wills the undulations down.

It works, it works well enough. It works for as long as it needs to.

The adrenaline has long since left Rin's body, subdued into a calmer confidence that allows him to counter Makoto's lighthearted jokes and push that troublesome runt away when Nagisa moves from pilfering Rei's leftovers to circling Rin's bowl. It makes Rin feel light, in a way that seems neither good nor bad; most of all, though, it doesn't make him angry, and that seems more than enough for now.

Whatever happened an hour ago in their room will not happen again. Rin is certain of this. Yet, as he sits there, spying on Haruka's subdued profile and that mask of concealed emotion, Rin's line of reasoning begins to falter the second he starts to think of the actual reasons why.

_You hide so much of yourself in the emotions you pretend not to see_

(Because the Haruka in front of him, he feels like a mirage; the Haruka in front of him feels... like a stranger, and this Haruka, he cannot touch Rin, cannot agitate or provoke him even if he tried.)

Rin should be happy about that, really. He should.

But it's almost like... Haruka's shrinking away on purpose, and it burrows a strange seed of doubt inside the part of Rin's mind that he's desperately trying not to consciously access.

A more foolish man might ask himself why, but Rin is not that man. Somehow, the thought that he even should feels annoying in and of itself. Since when has there ever been any point in trying to understand the inner workings of Haruka's mind? Does Haruka actually _think_ about things at all? So, okay, fine – maybe Rin observes more than he lets on, but is that really so hypocritical? He knows that the chances of Haruka being occupied with Rin's existence right now are zero to none; he knows, knows, _knows_ , and so it's easier to just act like he doesn't notice at all.

Shit, does it really matter what ultimately gets him through the day, what it is that allows Rin to go home and forget any of this ever happened? He can do this, he can _force_ himself to do this, if need be; it's not like Haruka's making it difficult for him, anyway. Haruka speaks in short, monosyllabic words whenever their conversations overlap, eats with a reserved poise that demands no attention, and it's familiar and bizarre all at once.

 _You're not the only person hiding things and you probably know_ , the tiny voice at the back of Rin's head whispers, but he silences it with a hasty gulp of water that almost makes him choke.

When they're done eating, Haruka excuses himself and leaves the room alone. Rin's eyes only follow him until Rei loudly exclaims, "Gou-chan, Nagisa-kun, that table is _not_ a kotatsu!", and somehow he feels like it's a tiny accomplishment in and of itself.

But then Rin turns his head, and catches Makoto staring after Haruka as well. A frown has knit Makoto's brows together, and the expression on his face is pensive, tinged with a trace of concern. Rin swallows instinctively, like trying to swallow down the recollection that twists painfully within him upon the sight of Makoto's expression, because he could recognize that look in his sleep.

The affection and loyalty, the patience and the sympathy – these are all the things that Rin is no longer privy to, all the things he tells himself he doesn't need from any of them anymore. It takes that one single look, and a feeling of ambiguous nature washes over him –it could be envy, it could be jealousy, it could be anger towards the fact that Haruka probably has no fucking idea how lucky he is– but in the end, all of it hurts.

Rin doesn't even know why it hurts so much all of a sudden, but it does, and, oh...

(in that moment, triggered by Makoto's painstaking comfort, a hundred memories soar through Rin's head all at once;

_grey mornings and wisps of cloud stretched across the sky, Makoto's gentle voice in the classroom and Haruka's defiant stare_

_the smell of chlorine on his fingertips and Nagisa's hyperactive zest bouncing off the walls, the slow, waning sun and Haruka's unimpressed glare_

_an endless dream, the hiss of the railway, traces of a smile that snaked all the way up to Haruka's eyes and a breath of wind in his hair_

_hey, hey_

_did you know_

_back then I..._ )

"I'll be right back," Rin hears himself saying aloud, because suddenly he cannot spend another moment in this room.

Something is pushing him from the inside, a restlessness he thought was lost in the traces of his former anger; even Makoto and Gou's long glances aren't enough to pull him back when Rin gets on his feet. Sliding into the hallway and leaning against the wall to catch his breath, he takes a moment to steady his pulse, until Rin finally realizes he has no idea what he's trying to do.

He thought it would be easier without Haruka in the room, but somehow it only feels worse. It sort of makes Rin want to punch himself: he really _is_ the biggest goddamn hypocrite in the world, because it's not the others who wind themselves over Haruka's every action – it's Rin who cannot help using Haruka as a point of reference to everything that happens in his life.

He doesn't understand. He thought he'd made a choice. He'd thought... it was enough.

It had _been_ enough. It had made him... happy, just to bear witness to the unconditional, tentative traces of friendship cast his way; how Rin had been able to pretend, if just for a while, that he was still welcome in this little cocoon of happiness just as much as anyone else. Today, Rin has felt–– like a fraction of something he didn't remember missing so much, in the warmth of Makoto's grin and the undisputed delight in Nagisa's laughter, and if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend that the years that have passed between all of them count for more than faded photographs.

(But if he opens his eyes, he might come to find Haruka staring at him again, and the image would shatter into a million pieces, reminding Rin that as much as he tries, he can never outrun the biggest of all of his mistakes.)

Why is it that people like Makoto and Nagisa find it so effortless to glide through the strings of time, to arrive at this very moment with smiles on their faces and never lose faith? Why is it that Makoto and Nagisa are still willing to accept him, to reach out their hand and treat him like a brother?

_Why is it that there's something so horribly wrong with you that he can't bring himself to do the same?_

Normally, this would be the point where the anger hits Rin anew, because it's the only emotion he can afford to welcome during the moments where he's at risk of having to choose: choose between the now, and the future he is partially responsible for shaping.

(But the anger doesn't come, and Rin knows why: his former resolve is nothing but a paper-thin safety-net that would never support his true weight. Normally, it might be enough to carry him through the minutes that Rin's defiance needs to hold in Haruka's presence, because their encounters are always brief and filled with tension, like a war waged in nerves; but here those same minutes pass and Haruka's _still there,_ and the resistance, well it bleeds out of Rin like a toxin repelled by his body, and then, well...)

Rin takes a deep breath.

Alright. Calm down. Focus.

He hasn't lost it yet. If he concentrates, he can keep himself from entering the state of frenzy he spiraled into before. His determination still holds, it must do, even if it's cracked at the edges and chipped in the core. He doesn't need full-on assault, doesn't need sheer aggression, as long as he can hold his ground. That's... that's all.

That's what he wants, right?

_...What do I want?_

A mirthless smile curves over the side of his mouth, while a small, weary part of Rin continues to shatter without a sound.

 

 

 

Maybe there's a meaning for it. Maybe there isn't. Maybe there's absolutely no purpose to the world and our existence and the things we do. Or maybe, just maybe the exact reason why Rin heads back to their room in the aftermath of his most recent emotional failure is the off-chance that he might find Haruka, because he literally cannot think of anything else to do.

Maybe they would be forced to talk to one another. Maybe something would change. Maybe, maybe; things never really tend to work out on maybe, but Rin's feet are in motion before he can stop himself, can stop and think why.

He finds Haruka, of course. He finds Haruka in the first place he looks at, because somehow he just knows.

The irony is that Haruka is also asleep, sprawled ungracefully on the futon, as though sleep was an afterthought to whatever he originally decided to lie down for; one arm rests on his chest, another has rolled close to Haruka's face, and it draws Rin's focus to the strands of dark hair that frame Haruka's cheeks like shadowed wisps.

Breathing should not be this difficult, not after all the mental (haphazard, superficial, misled) preparation Rin has gone through in the minutes before he enters their room. Which just goes to show that someone could probably write a pretty funny sitcom based on Rin's life; he'd be the butt of each joke, of course, but even Rin admits it would be nothing short of hilarious.

He kind of feels like laughing, now, except it might come out as crying instead and he doesn't know if he wants to take that chance.

(...Crying?)

(And how the _fuck_ is that supposed to make sense?)

(He's not.... it's not...)

(It's just...)

...When he kneels down next to Haruka's sleeping form, Rin can feel the tension and stress flooding out of his body in one big tidal wave, and it leaves him as worn out as it does... relieved. For now at least, he can let down his guard, because Haruka's light years away, and Rin doesn't know if he even has any pride left to care about anymore.

He hates his treacherous mind, this treacherous body that tricks Rin into thinking it's not slowly wearing down with the weight of each and every swayed expectation; fools him into believing that somehow Rin is in charge, when deep down the disappointment always remains the same.

Maybe there's a tiny solace in being able to admit that to himself, if just for now, if just for that brief cut-out of eternity where Rin can stare at Haruka without fear of being rejected.

Yeah.

That's where the tears would come from: from the frustratingly infuriating realization that nothing he does will ever allow him to win this game.

He's been pushing it off for so long, with dreams of a race, dreams of victory, dreams of absolution; but try as he might, he will never be able to triumph over Haruka, never truly reach Haruka, never come close enough to dent him with all the painstaking inferiority that is Rin's entire life.

He'll never be able to reject Haruka, either, and Haruka... neither knows, nor cares, and that's just how this is going to go.

Rin lifts one hand, as if on instinct, but his fingers fall short from brushing the strand of hair off Haruka's face when a voice halts him in place.

"Onii-chan? Did you want to––"

Rin doesn't know the exact look he shoots at Gou as she steps into the doorway, but it must be furious enough to freeze her blood cold, judging from the way she stops her dead in her tracks like a paused frame. Her mouth hangs open, halted in the sentence that never finishes. Finally Gou swallows, hesitantly, before averting her eyes as if she's stumbled upon a moment of private nature.

Rin closes his eyes, and counts to ten.

Fuck the sitcom. Everything about tonight is like a scene out of the most disjointed, deranged lifetime movie, starring a bunch of talking aquatic animals and Rin's gently deteriorating psyche.

"...I was going to ask if you're coming to the hot spring with us," Gou finally hazards tentatively, taken aback by the rawness of Rin's expression from before, "You don't–– you don't have to. But since you got on so well with everyone at the dinner, I thought..."

Rin takes a deep breath. They're speaking in low, hushed tones, but Haruka doesn't so much as shift at the sound. Somehow, somehow that just seems... so fucking fitting.

"I... I'll be there. I'll come," Rin croaks out and pushes himself to his feet. His head is spinning, but somehow that doesn't seem to matter in the slightest; nothing else seems to, after all.

He keeps his breathing even, and strides to the doorway where Gou is still firmly rooted in place. When he approaches her, she eyes at him with something sharp in her gaze; for a moment Rin thinks they're going to skip the discussion altogether, but Gou is not the timid little girl from his memories anymore, and so; when he passes her by, her words come out silent yet clear.

"You know you're going to have to tell him one day, 'nii-chan."

Rin tries to ignore her, the same way he attempts to ignore the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.

He only has any success with one.

 

 

 

If there's something positive to be said about the incessant back-and-forth between his various emotional states, it's that Rin is slowly but surely ticking off every check box on the chart that must ultimately lead to acceptance and peace. Or that's what he tells himself, anyway, when he finds himself at the outdoor hot springs together with Nagisa and Rei, and wonders if he's about to hit excruciating numbness anytime soon.

It's not that he detests their company. No, as a matter of fact Rin has grown to find Nagisa's exuberance oddly endearing, even for all that mischievous confidence when Nagisa latches himself on Rin's back during pre-wash like a human sponge. Rin's ninety nine percent certain Nagisa does it to freak the everliving shit out of Rei, but then, who the hell knows; he has absolutely no idea what is going on between those two, and he doesn't particularly want to know. Either way, Rin ends up bashing his forehead against the wall in the ensuing chaos, so he has legitimate grounds to hate Nagisa based on that alone.

He doesn't, though. Whether it's because Nitori's positivity has been rubbing off on Rin more than he'd thought, or because Nagisa's cheerfulness is just that contagious, once the three of them hit the actual spring there's something almost fascinating to watching Nagisa talk animatedly about everything they have experienced so far. Rei does his best to keep up, correcting Nagisa where he inflates the stories with gross exaggerations, like the size of the squirrel that sent Gou bashing her face into Makoto's abs.

It feels... it feels good, for Rin to take his mind off everything, even if it's just for the time it takes for Nagisa to describe the interior of their room to meticulous detail. Rin doesn't have the heart to tell him theirs is probably identical, because at least Nagisa's voice blocks out the memory of Haruka's sleeping face.

But because Rin's life is a lousy sitcom slash deranged movie slash who the fuck even knows anymore, that momentary peace only lasts for about fifteen minutes until Rei calls out Haruka's name, and it's all ruined again from there on out.

Rin blinks twice, unable to process the words at first. When Rei's frown indicates that he is expecting a response, Rin opens his mouth and goes, "Huh?"

"I said, do you think Haruka-senpai was acting strange tonight?" Rei repeats, gesturing with one hand, "He... didn't seem like himself."

Rin can literally see Nagisa's ears perk up, his body tense in alarm, like he's on the verge of interrupting Rei before he continues with, "Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen him like that since––"

And it's here that Rei goes silent, like a sudden realization dawns on him before he inserts a foot in his mouth. His expression still says exactly what his words do not, and Rin is glad Rei has the wit to leave the sentence unfinished, because had he completed it, Rin might have positively had to drown him in the warm water.

_I don't think I've seen him like this since the time the two of you raced at prefecturals_

He keeps waiting for the numbness but it never comes, and instead Rin is forced to bear the full brunt of the pain when it shoots across him, like a bullet swerving off course.

This time, he doesn't grace them with a goodbye as he turns to leave; it's not that Rin decides to leave, so much as his legs simply carry him out of the water of their own accord. All he knows is that he has to go, because being around anyone right now seems to be entirely too dangerous – the stimulus is too overpowering, too unpredictable, and Rin doesn't trust himself to be able to handle it.

He knows Rei means no ill will. He _knows_ , and that's the worst part about it; if Rei genuinely believes the words he left unsaid, then there's a part of Rin that wants to believe too, and he just cannot afford to slide down that path anymore.

The amount of reverse psychology Rin keeps overloading his senses with is sort of hilarious, but it's all he knows how to do; he has to, _has to_ keep telling himself _no_ when every part of him screams _yes_ , because there's a limit to how much disappointment a person can take and Rin's pretty certain he's reached his full quota for the weekend.

(He's reached his quota for the next goddamn decade, solely in the years he spent in Australia, but the others aren't aware of this and Rin's not about to change that fact simply because he's feeling oddly unstable on an overnight trip.)

When he enters their room anew afterwards, he finds it empty.

Rin finally feels empty, too, and the familiarity of that feeling involuntarily makes him smile.

 

 

 

Thing is, you get used to a lot of things with time. You get used to loneliness, until it transforms into solitude. You get used to solitude, until it transforms into self-sufficiency. For a person who naturally craves so much human contact, Rin is oddly proud of the fact that he has mastered each of these stages, not because he particularly ever wanted to, but because we cannot always choose what becomes of us in life.

They dealt him the cards, he played with them. He was doing fine. It wasn't like he was aiming for the big bucks, but just getting by was alright; the humming in his head and the echo in his heart were the only reminders that once upon a time, things may have been different, but he got used to that too in the way you grow oblivious to the static feed that surrounds you at all times.

But when he's around Haruka, the humming intensifies; it overwhelms his senses, pierces through his denial, and drags him kicking and screaming back to the point where Rin desperately wishes he could have taken a different turn and re-dealt his entire hand. Because it doesn't matter which strategy he tries, all he can do is lose, even when he wins; and all the while, Haruka isn't even officially playing, doesn't even realize there's a game taking place with Rin's self-respect at stake.

(Sometimes, during moments like the one where Haruka climbed out of the pool in Samezuka and confronted him head on with eyes full of reassuring fire, the humming in Rin's head ceases altogether; and those moments, those are the absolute worst, because deep down Rin wants it to be like that all the time but it's too late, too late to ever turn this around because he's just so _weak_.)

Rin takes a deep breath and leans further into the rail. A small lantern flickers somewhere nearby, illuminating the darkness of the balcony. He doesn't mind; from up here he can see the ocean, and it stretches endlessly in the horizon, like a reminder that it doesn't matter whether he's in Australia or Japan, there's no island or continent he can run to escape himself.

The ocean will always find him anyway.

He knows he and Haruka are incompatible in just about every way imaginable, but ever since childhood he's always felt a pull towards him just the same; whether it's because Rin is a masochist or simply out of his fucking mind, he cannot say. He doesn't think why he does it, he just does.

Each time Haruka shuts him down, and each time he comes back. That's how it's always been.

Whether he hates Haruka for it, or whether he hates himself more, now that's a question for the ages.

It's small wonder that it's... easier to be alone. The humming is there, but it's manageable. He distantly feels frustrated that it's driving him to the point where he cannot spend time with the others, either; if he's completely honest with himself, he's had _fun_ , and it feels like a waste to know all he can do is coop out here in isolation while the rest of them are probably out there enjoying themselves like something out of a Thursday morning cartoon.

Shit. That sounds way whinier than Rin intends it to, but there's no-one to listen in on his thoughts, so whatever. He doesn't know how long he just stands there, letting the slowly cooling air dry his hair and remind him of the year drawing to a close; another year wasted, another year spent not drawing an inch closer to whatever it is that he wants.

_What_

_do I want...?_

He hears something in the distance, like the sound of chimes in the wind, and then he feels it––

(like a light coming alive in the recesses of his soul)

(like the waves crashing in his ears)

–– and suddenly Haruka's there.

Rin cannot help the way his face tenses when the shadows from the lantern shift. Panting lightly, Haruka stands in plain view, no more than a few feet away, with an expression that sends a thousand mixed messages whizzing past Rin's circuitry. Even in the darkness, Haruka's eyes glow with a radiant royal blue, and for a split second Rin wonders if this is really the same person who stared at him during dinner with something choked, something desperate in his eyes.

(Choked? Desperate?)

Rin feels a pull at his throat, like a sudden inability to swallow or breathe, once the voices at the back of his mind suddenly catch him red-handed on his self-denial; now that Haruka's here, now that Haruka looks like _that_ , now that all of it makes it harder for Rin to reject the truth of what he recognized on Haruka's face before yet refused to believe.

And so, when Haruka's lips part and he says _hey_ , it sounds like a chime, like a ripple in the sea, and Rin knows that no matter how far he tries to outrun himself,

_the ocean will always find you anyway_

 

 

 

The seconds drag on, and to Rin they feel like hours.

Haruka steps a little closer, opens his mouth, then closes it. Starts anew, fails again. When no words ultimately come, Rin genuinely tries to prevent the protective wall of defiance from welling up within him, but old habits die hard; he can feel himself slipping further and further into familiar suspicion, like his mind is virtually conditioned to it by now.

As much as he tries to remain calm, Rin cannot help it. The part of him that wants to believe anything Haruka has to say could come out positive in tone is quickly overpowered by the far more paranoid side, the one that doesn't think such a thing is possible at this point.

What could Haruka possibly have to say to him now, anyway, that he hasn't had for the entire day? If Haruka wants to reprimand him for the past five years, why do it now? No, it must be something else – must be something he's thought up in the past few hours alone. Something triggers the memory of how odd Haruka seemed at dinner, and Rin latches at that though with all he's got.

Does that mean Haruka's upset because Rin was getting on so well with his friends? Is Haruka annoyed that they still like him, when Haruka does not? Is Haruka expecting Rin to apologize for his existence, to slink away in the shadows and act like he's not even here?

...Deep down, Rin knows all of these questions are trivial, foolish, inconsequential – none of them truly mean anything. But they conjure up the last traces of self-righteous pride in Rin, one that he didn't know he still possessed in his body, and that's enough; enough to get the malicious edge in his voice, enough to make him not hesitate when he launches into a defensive, verbal attack upon Haruka's failure to speak.

(He knows he knows he _knows_ that he probably shouldn't, but all of this–– all of this is the only thing he knows how to _do_ , anymore, and he cannot, cannot, cannot take the risk of finding out that maybe...)

_What you're really afraid of isn't Haruka's anger at all_

"Oh, get on with it already," the jolt in his heart has Rin groaning aloud, and then the words are out before he can take them back. He doesn't even really know where they _come_ from, and the dry laughter that follows is as incredulous as it is malicious.

" _Aren't my friends awesome? Isn't my team the greatest?_ Isn't that what you came here to tell me?"

It's so absurd, and Rin's voice does not sound like his own.

It's not that Rin hasn't thought about it, more often than he would probably care to admit in the aftermath of prefecturals. Shit, he's probably envisioned throwing those exact words in Haruka's face a thousand times before, in a fit of smoldering jealousy. But right now it simply feels... dishonest, somehow, to act like he still defiantly believes like any of his true frustration is rooted in that relay.

Afterwards, Rin averts his eyes, just in case; he cannot look at Haruka in the face when he speaks, because he has to convince himself as much as he tries to convince Haruka that the words are true.

But it doesn't matter. Because Rin has to keep going, _has to_ , lest he start to falter.

_If I falter, I'll drown_

_If I don't push him away, I'll drown_

"Newsflash, I don't care how your new life is turning out with your amazing new teammates. I don't care if you're going to go off on some tirade how I'm an asshole and you're a stronger person now or whatever. I'm only here because of Gou."

That... should do it. That should be enough for them both to return to the same page of the script, part their ways in animosity and wake up tomorrow none the wiser. It's what's supposed to happen, isn't it? It's what Rin wants to happen, because at least that way he won't have to tread deeper into the reeds.

But when he looks back up, Haruka's eyes are calm.

"I'm not," Haruka breathes out, and something inside Rin feels like in a free-fall.

It lasts for a heartbeat, two heartbeats. Haruka's expression shifts, if only a little; and maybe it's embarrassing that Rin's first instinct is to brace for a fight when he lifts his arm, but when Haruka's fingers hasten around his wrist, it catches Rin by surprise, enough to almost send him flat on his face.

"Wh–– What are you–– Haru––W, wait––"

His voice comes in choked, genuine fragments as Haruka drags Rin off, pulls him along through the inn without an ounce of hesitation; Rin almost bashes his forehead into a wall a second time today, but something about Haruka's presence makes his reflexes kick in with almost graceful finesse. The hold Haruka has on his skin is firm, and warm, and for a moment Rin could swear they've done this before, somewhere, in a time long ago.

The adrenaline that surges through Rin is different from his former anger, and it feels familiar in a way that could feel painful if it wasn't also anchored to Haruka's touch.

The night is pitch black and the wind makes Haruka's hair sway lightly when they eventually come to a halt. It reminds Rin of what he looked like asleep, which is an odd thing to think of right now but it hits Rin before he can see it coming. His confusion must be mirrored on Haruka's face, though, because Haruka looks... a little lost, now that they've reached the edge of the forest and all that lies ahead is the unknown.

When Haruka speaks, however, his voice is clear and honest and breaks through all of Rin's barriers in three single words.

"Swim with me."

As if cut with a sharp blade, the humming in Rin's head comes to an abrupt halt.

( _hey, hey_

_did you know_

_back then I would have done...)_

"You're crazy," Rin responds, and something warm speaks on his behalf now as it did on the day his mother called him, and once more he means every single word.

He doesn't realize it until later, but the humming never returns.

 

 

 

In the time it takes to stagger down the hill with limited vision and even more limited foothold, Rin screams those words aloud, again and again, until his voice finally starts to feel like his own. There's a confidence that wells up from somewhere within him, sparked with each careful glance Haruka casts over his shoulder, just to make sure Rin's still following.

It's so strange. Rin doesn't know what to make of it, not quite yet, but he doesn't resist when his feet break the surface of the water. It makes him scream, but he submerges the sound as he submerges himself and then the water's on his skin, rushing in his ears, dousing him with adrenaline and the exhilarating sense of freedom.

Something here feels exactly how everything is supposed to be, and Rin probably knows.

(But he's also not... ready, not just yet, to face what that might mean in its wake; when he pulls up to Haruka with a few long strokes, when his feet tread the water and he's reminded of reeds again, when he thinks of the endless depth that surrounds them at all sides, beneath and above and deep within their heart.)

Maybe it shows on his face. Maybe Rin cannot help it, as he attempts to choke down his vulnerabilities, because the night leaves him little room to hide behind and Haruka–– the reflection of the ocean glistens in his eyes and there's something so _accepting_ to his entire poise, relaxed and natural in the water, that it makes Rin want to scream.

(He's been waiting to see that expression for so long, and now that it's here he doesn't know if he can _deal_ )

They remain in silence for a moment longer, but it does not feel overwhelming anymore. Instead, it makes it easier to hear the whispers that sneak up on Rin again, those low, calm voices that he no longer has the strength to decline.

_The reason why you've kept running from his sadness all night, the reason you'd rather construe his silence as indifference, the reason why you convince yourself that you're the victim yet continue to push him away_

(Because it's not Haruka's _rejection_ that Rin truly fears, is it?)

He's dealt with so much rejection his entire life, after all; and Rin used to think, used to believe that Haruka was nothing but the peak of that iceberg, the one physical representation of all his failures that he could not surpass, but no; as much as Haruka's indifference used to hurt, as much as Rin kept shielding himself from it, deep down it wasn't what he was afraid of confronting the most.

 _I wasn't I wasn't I wasn't I wasn't I was never_ ready

_for what I might discover in the depths of you_

But Haruka's right there, and there's an undeniable softness to his expression that makes it impossible for Rin to turn away anymore.

The answer's almost there, too, at his fingertips. But then Haruka's eyes hastily widen and dilate and Rin remembers nothing about anything anymore; the water crashes in his ears as Haruka crashes into him, a firm and determined mess of limbs that wrap around his shoulders, pushing them both underwater. A current shoots through Rin's spine as he feels Haruka's body press against his own, and his hands instinctively come up around Haruka's back; it feels vital, somehow, more so than actually drawing in a deep breath before they go down under.

( _sinking sinking sinking they're both sinking, like all the nightmares Rin ever had of disappearing amidst the reeds and amidst the darkness of the blue, but the fear never comes, the dread never grips him, and when he opens his eyes Haruka's still_ _there_ )

In the still of the cold, it feels like his layers start to come apart. It feels like he's peeling inside out, but what dissolves into the water are remnants of a Rin he doesn't recognize; they are the fragments of a Rin he doesn't want to be anymore. Haruka's arms are strong and steadfast around him, like the protective embrace of someone who has made a choice and will hold onto it for his very life.

They re-surface with less grace, with Rin coughing and splashing, but something inside him feels alive in a way it hasn't done in years. He feels like laughing, he feels like punching Haruka, he feels like burying his head in the groove between Haruka's shoulder and neck and never opening his eyes.

Haruka still hasn't let go. When Rin stares up at him, a world of unexpected emotion is bleeding out of Haruka's gaze; it makes Rin wonder, briefly, if they've both come undone in the water, in ways that they could never explain to one another any more than they could pretend not to notice.

"Shit, you could have warned me," Rin says, and then Haruka's literally laughing in his face.

It's so... easy, somehow, and not, at the same time. Because when Rin snaps with _what's so goddamn funny?_ it comes out lighthearted rather than annoyed, and he cannot help smiling. And Haruka just laughs, laughs, laughs, and in that moment the sound of his laughter is the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

( _it sounds like Spring, it sounds like Winter, it sounds like crisp mornings spent trying to pry the tiniest smile out of the corner of Haruka's mouth, and the languid afternoons when he prevailed_ )

So Rin splashes a wave in Haruka's face and then they're underwater again, and it feels natural like nothing ever did before; they bicker and push and tug and pull until Rin's lungs heave with salt and raw laughter, until Haruka leans back and his poise grows calm and inscrutable. He observes Rin, wordlessly, and Rin doesn't know how much of his heart is naked in his expression right now, but he also doesn't know if it really matters.

As the silence drags on, though, Rin sort of wishes Haruka would say something. Anything. Because he's tired of having to make these decisions based on hunches and haphazard assumptions, most of which tend to err on the side of pessimism just to be safe; and although this Haruka ( _his Haruka_ ) teems with spirit and does not hesitate to meet him head on, three seconds ( _ten minutes_ ) is still not necessarily enough to change the course of history.

It's small wonder, then, that once Haruka's words never come, Rin averts his eyes and says, "We should probably head back."

Haruka doesn't respond, but Rin catches the tiniest glimpse of disappointment setting around his eyes. It's enough to give him a boost of adrenaline, one that sends Rin reaching the shore in record time.

(Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn't. Maybe he's growing ever more ready to actually find out.)

Rin doesn't brave another glance at Haruka until they're both re-clothed in the flimsy material of their yukatas. When he does, the mere look on Haruka's face sort of makes him want to burst out laughing, draining away all of his sudden nervousness: Haruka seems oddly puzzled, like a lost animal, because it's almost as if it didn't dawn on him until this very second that it might feel chilly, getting out of the ocean in the middle of the fucking night.

God, one of these days Haruka is going to drive Rin absolutely nuts.

(He sort of... loves it.)

(Fuck, they always made fun of him for being such a damn romantic at heart but he sort of doesn't want to pretend like that's not true, either.)

And so, _you're such an idiot_ are the words that pass Rin's lips, but there's a hidden smile that snakes its way into his voice. He reaches his hand out to Haruka, whose eyes lighten up in surprise, and the sheer amount of naked relief in that look is enough to twist Rin's stomach into knots.

(It's alright.

It's alright.

He can deal with this, he can see this through 'till the end, because he's not alone.)

"Come on. I have an idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adshag I swear it wasn't supposed to take me this long to write the final chapter, but life got in the way. Also, I'd be lying if I said this one hasn't been a challenge to write due to fear of being redundant, but I'm actually happy with the way it turned out – even if it also turned out some 5k longer than the original one. I guess... I blame Rin being an overly emotional loser, but in many ways I suppose it's only fitting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final installment, and a massive thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting and enjoying this silly ride with me!

Sneaking into the outdoor spring through an entrance blocked with flimsy, easily averted latches is worth it, if just for the way Haruka's brows draw together in silent contemplation. There is something curious to how his expression quickly softens, as if the acceptance comes to him just as effortlessly. In his place, many others would demand answers and excuses, but Haruka expects none; Rin's glad he doesn't need to provide one, because he only _has_ one, and that one amounts to little more than _why the hell not._

(So far tonight, it's worked better than any logical excuse ever could, though.)

"This is a bad idea," Haruka mutters anyway as he settles into the spring, but there is no true dissent to his tone. Rin knows Haruka doesn't genuinely mind, because a) the idea that he could resist anything water-related is not only sort of groan-worthy but also completely ridiculous, and b) the heat on his chilled limbs must feel amazing, once the slow, relaxing warmth settles in his bones, rendering all lawful obedience moot.

"No more than yours was," Rin responds, like a half-hearted retort, and he is almost surprised at the ease it comes out with. The moon makes the surface of the spring glisten like liquid obsidian, and he spends a moment just threading his fingers through the water as though mesmerized by the sight.

If this should somehow feel–– well, more awkward, it... doesn't. Sure, upon entering, Rin's first impulse was to decidedly avert his eyes when Haruka shrugged off his clothes and made for the water, but another instinct took over in about two seconds flat, as Haruka whimpered from the sudden temperature change and Rin's fingers snaked around his arm, if just to stop the idiot from causing a scene.

He doesn't know why it always seems to work like that (why his self-consciousness is repeatedly overcome by a bizarre intuition that always traces back to Haruka) but it does, and with that thought he breathes in deeply and closes his eyes.

Leaning against the wall, the world fades away as the warmth envelops his senses. So much of what has happened tonight is still a blur in his mind, nerves alight with each unspoken word and prolonged glance, and he's finding it harder to dance around their true meaning by the moment. The voices from before are but a distant echo now, yet still linger, circling around the recesses of Rin's self-denial; as he breathes in and out, they softly blend into the words Gou spoke upon catching a glimpse at his raw vulnerability.

_One day you're going to have to tell him_

Suddenly, Rin feels so weary; his skin, his bones, his spirit are all dissolving at once, until only the steady beating of his heart remains.

He's been fighting a losing battle for so long, after all.

Of course, if he pieced together all the fragments of whatever haphazard dissent still swirls in the outskirts of his fear, he could cling onto those feeble regrets – all the _this is crazy_ s, the _I'm reading way too much into it_ s or even the _what if I'm the only one_ s – but it's... not what renders him so hesitant, frightened even, now that his self-induced exile is finally drawing to a close.

Something in Rin is collapsing and erupting again, like an excitement that overflows with crippling fear, and he swallows heavily as he opens his eyes anew.

He can do this, whatever this is, but he just needs more time.

_Just a little longer_

_Just... give me a little longer, still_

When he calls out Haruka's name, it comes out low, but also calmer than Rin might have imagined. Haruka glances back, like broken out of reverie, but something expectant sparks in his expression the second Rin reaches out his hand. The eagerness that seeps from Haruka's touch is like a bittersweet sting, but Rin wills himself at peace; he knows he's counting down the seconds but it's all he has, all he can do to pretend like he still has any of this under control.

There's... so many things he wants to say. So many things he could say, and couldn't, because it seems humanly impossible to put any of the things he feels right now into words.

He wants to tell Haruka he hates him.

He wants to tell Haruka he's the biggest idiot he's met in his life.

He wants to tell Haruka he misses him.

He wants to tell Haruka he's the only thing that makes sense in his life.

(And he wants to tell Haruka that there's a dream he's had, ever since he returned to Japan, a nightmare where he chases both his father and Haruka alike – but he never reaches either, never finds out what's holding him back. And when he wakes up, he feels like crying, he feels like laughing, he feels like opening the window wide and never looking back.

But Haruka's here now, and there _is_ no turning back.)

But he doesn't say any of this. Instead, when he opens his mouth, the words come tumbling like some defiant part of him is still clinging onto the hope that _you can turn his around if you just try hard enough_ , and somehow what comes out is the exact opposite of what he means to say.

"Don't think that this means I'm not still going to kick your ass."

Yeah, he's a fucking genius, alright. (Hey, at some point this tragicomedy of a life must turn into a sequel, right?)

But then a tiny, nearly impish smile dawns on Haruka's face, like somehow, somehow he knew to expect that exact call to arms, and knows exactly how to dismantle it the second it surfaces.

"You're lying."

For a second it brushes past the barrier of all other emotion and sparks something familiar within Rin – an annoyance, perhaps an irate nerve, at the sheer _cheekiness_ that Haruka thinks he can counter Rin with. After all, Haruka's boisterous confidence has always been the subdued, aggravating kind, where he pretends like he's not making fun of Rin but he is; Rin fights back the urge to roll his eyes like a twelve-year-old, and takes a deep breath instead.

Somehow, though, he feels more like his normal self when he says, "And how would you know, idiot?"

And maybe, Haruka knows to expect that too; maybe he doesn't at all. Maybe all of this is simply teetering on the edge until they luck into some kind of bizarre, messed up balance, but when Haruka responds there's an honesty in his voice that paves way for an unsettling weightlessness, one that burrows deep into the hollow of Rin's soul the moment the words leave Haruka's lips.

"Because the person hurting you right now isn't me."

All at once, Rin feels his insides crystallize, like a kaleidoscope of pure, raw emotion that scatters through him in twisting colours and shapes, and nothing makes sense anymore.

Because he feels... anger, to the point of blind fury; he feels relief, like a wave of gentle absolution; he feels malice, because it's not _right_ that Haruka should tell him anything he's supposed to feel; and he feels gratitude, because deep down it's probably not possible for him to ever admit as much to Haruka in words himself.

But more than anything, more than any other tremor that shakes him to the core, Rin suddenly feels _absolutely fucking petrified_ , because if Haruka _understands_ , then–– then––

(He can run from himself for as long as he needs to, bury these thoughts under a lifetime of contempt and spite, but _the ocean will always find you anyway_ and so; sooner or later he'll run out of excuses, because there are no lies he can ever tell Haruka to extinguish the sincere, overflowing affection in his gaze.)

_...It's what you always feared the most, wasn't it_

_never the anger, never the rejection, never the listlessness that you grew to rely on_

_but that one day, he'd come to hold your gaze with steadfast eyes, and that all of your adoration would be in parity with his own._

When Haruka leans closer and places the palms of his hands down on Rin's chest, he seems so infuriatingly at peace with himself that Rin's instinctive impulse is to grab him by the hair and rip off Haruka's head; these violent, desperate fantasies are thwarted only by the side of Rin that cannot get a single word out of his mouth, for fear of short-circuiting any second.

"Get on with it, already," Haruka continues, and his tone is decidedly calm, a delicate balance between curiosity and mischievousness, and Rin cannot even breathe, " _I have an amazing team. I'm doing great without you_... That's what you want to tell me, isn't it?"

Rin feels his eyes narrow on instinct, and a weaker man would know to run for his life by now; but while Haruka has always been a monumental fool, entirely too thoughtless and reckless for his own good, he was never weak; the sea of Haruka's eyes glimmers back at Rin with endless spirit, with all the unremarkable days filled with jeers and laughter they have ever shared together, and something shatters away around the final protective barrier around Rin's heart.

 _Oh, what the fuck ever_.

"Shut the fuck up, you loser," he breathes out, and then his fingers are in Haruka's hair and his lips on Haruka's lips and there's a sound that Haruka makes almost as if he's surprised that it's not actually a surprise and he tastes like salt and he tastes like sincerity and none of it makes any sense but it doesn't have to because the weightlessness still pulls Rin inside out and he knows––

_that if you took the plunge, there was always a chance you might sink_

_(but it was always going to be the two of you drowning together)_

Rin knows, he knows, he knows so many things he always pretended not to know.

Like how Haruka would look out of breath (lips swollen and flushed, hair in his eyes, shoulders trembling lightly in tune to the beat of his heart), how Haruka might sound (those choked, low sounds that he makes involuntarily whenever Rin's sharp teeth catch his bottom lip), even how unexceptionally bad Haruka would initially be at kissing (with all the instinctive nervousness and involuntary fumbling that he does, and how stupid and perfect Rin would find it anyway).

And he might vehemently deny that the reason he knows this is because he may have thought of it, even in passing, at moments when he allowed his mind to wander; but he doesn't even bother trying to deny the fact that it nonetheless leaves him with the slightest inclination of murderous jealousy, for the possibility that anyone else should ever have the chance to witness Haruka the same way.

He knows, too, that when they pull apart and the competitive side of Haruka glares him down for looking so smug with himself, for the heady manner in which Haruka struggles to reclaim his composure afterwards, that the words Rin utters next are not a challenge, but a final game of blink-and-miss-it.

"Don't think this means I _still_ won't kick your ass."

Haruka doesn't blink, and he never misses.

"You're lying."

Rin can sense the grin stretching across his face, and it feels good, it feels natural, it feels _right_ for the first time in longer than he can even remember.

"Yeah, I probably am."

 

 

 

Is it weird?

It's not weird.

Should it be weird?

Probably, but for all the ironies and inconsistencies in his life, Rin's not even sure he gives a shit anymore. Sure, there might be all sorts of reasons why he ought to feel puzzled by the fact that in all his eighteen years, he's never felt such an overwhelming need to _have_ someone, as though the thought is more abstract than it is rooted in any kind of actual physical desire; and it's not that the physical need isn't there, too (how could it not, how could he not feel like dissolving the second Haruka pins him against a wall after they sneak out of the spring, because _fuck_ ), but it's just... different.

(Different, from all the haphazard attempts at physical contact he ever had with nameless, faceless girls on the rare occasion that group dates or house parties presented that option to begin with; and it makes Rin want to punch Haruka, because _of course_ this stupid fucker has to be the one to render all his experiences –past, future– meaningless, with the graceless realization that nothing Rin could ever feel with another person would compare, would never measure up to how inexplicably hard Haruka is capable of making him with just the tiniest look of naked desire that sets on his normally unreadable features.)

For everything they lack in experience they act on instinct, and there's an odd kind of beauty to that shameless eagerness Rin knows is undoubtedly mirrored in his own expression. It could freak him out how natural it feels, too, like there's another person inside him just dying to get out, held back by what seems like a lifetime of stifled second guesses and dreams that once passed in silence; but instead it leaves him... thrilled, and curious, like the time he first discovered how to sway water to his will.

...He's been so hyperaware of gauging his emotions, for so long, after all. Somewhere along the way, it probably turned into a second skin, which is why it feels strange as it does oddly transfixing to sense that awareness now transforming, in the moments when he focuses on the patch of naked skin between Haruka's shoulder and neck; subconsciously, he was always overloaded with a world of insecurity over all the things he should not think or feel, the things he wasn't allowed to, the things he never deserved to, and he–– it makes Rin want to scream, internally, because for whatever reason Haruka doesn't seem to care, care, care about any of that, doesn't waste a single thought on all the intricate, unspoken rules Rin always led his life by. As though somehow all that matters is that when Haruka nudges his lips apart and traces Rin's tongue with his own, he does it because he wants to pull Rin in as much as Rin wants to be pulled.

Somehow, it is everything. Somehow, it's exactly why it makes that silent scream in the crest of his heart turn into a whimper, because every touch he feels Haruka draw on his skin is as blissfully painful as it is pleasant.

It hurts, because Rin knows that in his traitorous, emotionally volatile romantic dumb ass mind, it's everything he wants and doesn't want right now.

_I want this I want you I want everything but not like this_

The idea that any of this would draw to a close leaves his mind reeling with dismay, but try as he might, Rin cannot humanly imagine what happens next. His thoughts instinctively flash back at his former encounters with meaningless, sloppy kissing and misguided groping, but the idea of so much as putting Haruka in the same sentence feels like a mortal sin. There's not a single nerve in Rin's body that thinks there's something–– wrong, about how easy it is to meld into Haruka's warmth, to zone out his conscious mind and to finally just _feel_ after all these months of excruciating _thought_ , and he–– he wishes it could be that simple, but it's not, it's...

It means too much for both of them and he can tell, from the hesitancy in which they abstain from taking their physical closeness further; like somehow it should be more than this, more than a sudden impulse, more than the back yard of a nameless inn on a night of Autumn; and he cannot even imagine how bizarre all of this must be for Haruka, whose entire demeanor screams introverted first time fumbling, but the fact that he's trying anyway, well...

(Sometimes, Rin could swear that all the time Haruka spends zoning out the rest of the world is spent on practicing telepathy like some third rate mutant in the comics Rin used to read in Australia. Not only would it explain Haruka's unspoken link with Makoto, but also the way in which Haruka usually seems to be two steps ahead of Rin, like now, like always.)

Because there's a light touch of cool air between their lips where Haruka pulls back, then, before it's replaced by the warmth of Haruka's forehead against Rin's own; his hands snake down to Rin's wrists, holding him in place as though Haruka instinctively fears that Rin will dissolve into the night the second he lets go. He's unable to meet Rin's gaze when he speaks, and a watercolour of red spreads across Haruka's neck when he does.

"I want to sleep with you, but not here. Not now."

And it–– does something to Rin, he realizes, like a quiver through his entire body, until it finally settles around his heart; the look on Haruka's face goes from nervous to alarmed, like part of him is dying to take those words back lest Rin be dismayed with them, but Haruka should know by now – know that he isn't the only one placing all of his bets on the line in this senseless game that they have played since before either one of them can even remember.

"Alright," Rin speaks, and for a moment he feels buoyant with a newfound glow that reaches even the most hollow parts of his mind.

It's alright.

It's alright.

It's...

"Sleep with me, instead?"

It's an awful, grimace-inducing half-retort, and Rin wouldn't blame him if Haruka decided to elbow him in the chest in response. (If Rin's life ever gets made into a film, hell, even a cartoon, he'll definitely hire someone to write him better lines.)

But instead of shooting him down with an unimpressed stare, Haruka gives Rin a light nod, and the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth leaves Rin's fingertips tingling. It makes it easier (for the pace of his heart to steady, for his nerves to calm down) to not flinch even for a second, when Haruka takes a step back and reaches for Rin's hand. Haruka's own wavers, if only briefly, as though he's trying to overcome some deep-rooted uncertainty; finally, his fingers land on Rin's wrist and hasten around it anew.

(It's not quite holding hands, but it's not quite nothing either; Rin fights back the urge to grin stupidly at the gesture, hiding his smile as he conceals the side of his face in wayward strands of hair.)

They walk back to their room like that, in silence, but it feels welcome in a way solitude does once the course of your life has been altered forever. Rin sort of wishes he wouldn't think of it in quite as dramatic terms, but he doesn't know what else to call it; whether or not it means as much to Haruka, he'll probably never know, but deep down he's painfully aware that what has changed tonight is not how Haruka feels about him at all.

Rin spends an extra few seconds shuffling down on his futon, if just to stop the whispers from flooding in through the comforting darkness of the room.

He fails, of course.

No, what has changed is that for the first time in years Rin is unable to lie to himself.

Because it is impossible to ignore how hard Haruka's trying to allow the walls of his fortitude to pave way for the things that he truly wants, and it twists away at Rin's heart because he can no longer pretend like what Haruka wants isn't really _him_ ;

_you spent so long relying on the fact that he'd never admit to his feelings any more than you could admit to your own_

_because you thought you didn't deserve him,_

_don't deserve anything about the way he makes you feel_

(and he knows it's ridiculous and stupid but he cannot help the weight of that worthlessness from closing around his spirit, even still, even now, because it feels like someone else's dream and he––)

But then Haruka's hand reaches across the floor, and their fingers intertwine halfway;

and the warmth of his touch is familiar, like a childhood Rin doesn't remember having lived, like a life he has yet to share with Haruka, and something comes alive in him amidst a room of broken memories.

He remembers this, hazily, when his eyes close in a desperate attempt to savor the feeling for as long as possible.

_Hey, hey_

_did you know,_

_back then_

_I would have done anything for you_

He falls asleep, fingers laced with Haruka's own, but the tiny smile never leaves his lips.

_(I'd still do)_

 

 

He dreams of the ocean in Spring.

He dreams of cherry blossoms, and the weightlessness of water.

He dreams of a young boy with eyes the colour of azure blue, and words written in sand no wave can erase.

_You are the person I'll make an exception for, because it's worth it_

 

 

 

Rin wakes up to the sound of something rustling.

When he lazily opens his eyes, there's a flash of red hair, a flurry of subdued footsteps, and finally the click of something closing. His thoughts distantly connect this with Gou's empty futon, but drift off the moment Rin remembers about Haruka; his eyes flicker to where their hands are still joined together, and then up Haruka's shoulder and face.

The pale light dances on Haruka's cheekbones and he looks every ounce as untouchable as he did last night. Something tightens in Rin's throat, because the memory is as poignant as it is ironic, somehow; mere hours ago it was a look he envied, with all the misplaced bitterness he could not untangle, because Haruka had looked so _free_ of all the harsh trivialities of life. So unbound, so unaffected by all the things that still crippled Rin to the bone.

(But Haruka was–– he _wasn't_ free, no more than Rin ever was, even if he knew how to tune out the rest of the world; and it feels absurd, it feels unreal, it feels like the ache Rin used to crush beneath dozens of others in order to forget how similar they were in the end.)

The memory stings, but Rin is growing all the more accustomed to the pangs of bittersweet pain that follow the reminders that this _is_ real. The reminders that _he_ is real. The reminders that he knows that Haruka knows that he knows, and now it's too late

_(to run, to hide, to cling to the comforting ease that misery left in its wake_

_because you're here and he's here and you no longer possess the hate_

And when Haruka stirs, as his unfocused gaze hits Rin the second he opens his eyes, he mouths a silent "...n,"; and it could be a word, it could be a sound, but somehow Rin knows at that exact moment that what Haruka's calling out is _his name_.)

Suddenly the gravity of reality doesn't feel heavy around him, so much as it is simply tangible in each breath he draws in through weary lungs; Haruka might ask about Gou's whereabouts, or he might not, because the memories get very disjointed right around here as Rin has difficulty processing any coherent thought then on out.

Haruka's eyes have a split second chance to widen in recognition before Rin's hold on his hand grows rigid with tension, before he pulls Haruka close enough to smother his lips in a single, frenzied kiss. When it connects, the surge of electricity that soars through Rin is different from last night; it feels like an undercurrent, like a slowly gathering storm, like live fire smoldering somewhere in the place that used to be occupied with hesitancy and fear.

There may be a world outside these walls, prime with the magnitude of consequences, but it ceases to exist for Rin the second he senses the intensity that bleeds out of Haruka's response; there is an unwavering drive to Haruka's gaze when he reaches over Rin, unprompted, like an intuitive need leads him on with all the unashamed vigor that normally renders Rin unable to even reach out for what he wants.

For a moment it hurts; for a moment it reminds Rin of all his shortcomings and failures, because there is no mirror as merciless as the reflection in Haruka's eyes.

(He always thought that Haruka was so much stronger than him, in every way, so ethereal and untouchable in his resolve, and it made him hate Haruka as much as it twisted away at him with envy; but it wasn't ever Haruka he blamed, was never Haruka he truly hated, because _the only one you ever hated was yourself_ and the bittersweetness of that knowledge makes him tense for a moment against his will.)

But then a look sets on Haruka's features, one that Rin has witnessed several times in the course of the past twenty-four hours; the traces of nervousness and uncertainty that flood in through the cracks of Haruka's confidence are still so tangibly raw on his face that it leaves Rin short of breath.

_you're... just as afraid as he is_

_but he wants this more than he fears making a mistake, because the only thing worse than failing is not going through with it at all_

A subdued kind of warmth settles in Rin's chest, making it easier to breathe, and as it spreads he finds his smile twisting into a genuine smile. He cannot help it; something about the scene is so heartbreakingly hilarious and endearing at the same time, because they are both such goddamn _idiots_ and Rin doesn't know why it's taken him so long to come to this conclusion, but now it's here and now they're here and he's still Rin motherfucking Matsuoka and he can _deal_ with Haruka, the way Haruka thinks he can deal with him.

The smile on his face turns into a grin, one that is both wry and challenging and he knows Haruka can tell.

They're not perfect. They don't have to be. That was never the point.

The point... is something that soon gets lost amidst the sudden flash of competitiveness that sparks in Haruka's expression anew, lost in the fervor of whatever sudden rush of possessiveness gains hold of him; Rin's glad he cannot see his own expression when Haruka quite literally pounces at him, like it's all Haruka can do to keep all these bothersome feelings in check, like they're flowing out of him in an uncontrollable wave. Because Haruka's lips are hot on his jaw, fingers trembling but determined when they drag across the skin of Rin's stomach, and whether or not either one of them actually possesses the ability to communicate through minds, for a split fraction in time Rin is certain he can almost _hear_ it

_you're the only one capable of doing this to me_

_so shut up and let me show you that I'm the same_

It shouldn't make Rin's breathing hinge in his lungs like a screeching halt, shouldn't make him hiss quite as desperately in all curse words known to man, but when Haruka's hand fastens around his cock and resumes a lazy, taunting pace, how the hell is he supposed to be capable of coherent thought? Because it's–– (like a sudden rush of adrenaline that makes his fingers grab Haruka's hair by the roots out of sheer surprise) and it's not–– (unlike those same off chance moments in the past when he may have imagined this exact scene, too, played out in his head in the dead of the night) but it's––

(actually better)

because Rin could never dare afford to imagine Haruka ever being so unashamedly captivated by his reactions, breath heated on Rin's cheek like there's a mechanism inside him that fuels itself by each involuntary sound that passes Rin's lips; could never so much as _dream_ of how staggering it would feel to bear witness to the dusky glow in Haruka's eyes when he pulls back and mutters an absent-minded "Noisy," with barely enough feigned indifference to hide the radiance on his cheeks.

God, the nerve of that idiot – as though Rin's the only one here on the verge of losing it, as though Haruka's composure would uphold any more scrutiny if Rin just reached out and wedged his tongue down his throat anew – but then Rin's abdomen are aflame with tiny, wet kisses, and with a delayed, frenzied alarm he realizes Haruka's intended method of concealing his own daze and _that fucking little sneak_ ––

The flustered panic is drowned out in the shot of naked pleasure that grips him by the veins like Haruka grips him by the hip, lips and tongue closing around his cock with enough brazen enthusiasm to completely distract from his lack of experience or even technique; Rin always thought it was just a ridiculous and overly dramatic expression but his eyes veritably roll over in the back of his head, and his unintelligible words turn into groans and frantic whimpers in a way that could feel massively embarrassing if shared with anyone else in the whole world.

(But it's not embarrassing with Haruka, not really;

because as much as Rin's cheeks burn bright with adrenaline and desire and a trace of humane bashfulness, none of this is anything compared to the nakedness Haruka already forced him to confront in the exposed honesty of his own feelings, and if Haruka's here even after all that–– if Haruka _wants him_ even after all that, then there's nothing Rin can think of that would be worth giving a fuck about if the alternative is to savor the sight of being blown by the honest-to-god most gorgeous guy he's met in his life.)

Maybe it's for that exact reason that Rin doesn't actually last very long, all things considered; everything here just overloads his senses with more stimulus than he's ever felt before, enough to almost catch even him unaware when the pleasure suddenly hits him blind in his climax like a voltage directly in his nervous system. Instinctively he grabs at Haruka's collarbone, which startles Haruka enough to lean back enough to miss it when Rin comes with a choked moan; with his heart at exploding point and body still twitching in the aftermath, it takes a while before his lungs are back to breathing capacity, coming down on the high of his orgasm.

"Fuck, I––" Rin begins, trying to sit upright, with every intention to fill the moment with something, _anything_ before his insecurities rush back in and convince his head with the dark thoughts that if he doesn't get there first, Haruka might say something he doesn't want to hear; but the words die on his lips in a mortified silence the second he sneaks a glance at Haruka's face.

Parts of him are doing really bizarre and almost hilarious somersaults inside Rin when he reaches over to brush the remainder of his come off Haruka's chin with a single, hasty flick of his thumb, while other parts sort of want to die in shame. "It... seems I'm shit at aiming even when I try."

But when he tries to pull back, Haruka's hold is firm on his wrist. The look in his eyes is part cloudy, part predatory, and it makes all the parts inside Rin turn into a liquid that settles at the pit of his stomach. With an almost effortless grace, Haruka leans Rin's thumb between his lips and with a lazy circle of his tongue licks off whatever is left of his come; it only lasts a second, two seconds, and when Haruka's done he casts Rin a deadpan look. "You are."

Yeah, okay. Maybe Rin's being a bit too forceful when his body acts of its own accord and pins Haruka in place with another frantic, hungry kiss, but fuck fuck fucking _fuck_ it takes like–– those exact two seconds and Rin's hard again and _this goddamn idiot how is he even real_ ––

But then a sound of approaching footsteps crashes into Rin's consciousness as feverishly as he crashed into Haruka, and their bodies disengage with enough speed that would make even an olympic sprinter green with envy; Rin knows what it is, knows the lightness of those footsteps with all the experience of minimized porn tabs on a shared computer, and the two of them only just manage to scramble back to their futons and feign sleep before the door slides open.

Imagining Gou's head in the doorway, staring at them intently, it sort of makes Rin want to burst out laughing anyway.

"Yeah, I bet you're still asleep," Gou says, but there's a lightness to her voice that seems different from last night, and when she goes, it feels like a tiny weight evaporates off Rin's chest.

 

 

 

Three seconds may not be enough to change the course of history.

Ten minutes may not be enough to change the course of history.

Rin's not entirely sure how long it truly takes, but he knows that his life is not the same it was twenty-four hours ago; when they sit down for breakfast, when the air in the dining room echoes with chimes of laughter, when he decidedly avoids Haruka's stare until it becomes obvious enough that all of them know anyway – it feels like there's a tangible air of ease that glides off each word, crisp and familiar, that centers around Haruka's newfound smile.

Rin doesn't think he's the cause of it.

He doesn't think because he _knows_ he is.

Yeah, so it doesn't stop the tiniest pang of irrational jealousy from shooting across his heart when Makoto tilts his head and has one of those weird ass mutant telepathy conversations with Haruka over a bowl of fried egg; but maybe they were all always more capable of reading one another than they even thought, because before Rin knows it, Makoto's grinning in his face and stealing his food and his jealousy dissolves into the familiarity of Makoto's smile.

Yeah, he's kinda missed all of these losers.

Kinda missed them... a lot.

 

 

 

"What do we do now?"

It feels like something he should say, Rin thinks later.

Sure, it's probably not the best line ever, but he'll have time to practice the dialogue for his upcoming TV debut, now titled _Matsuoka Rin, or the story of how I'm a huge dumbass but at least I'm not the only one_. The Autumn wind messes up his hair at the station and Haruka's eyes trail off into the distance, and there's far less irony here than Rin might have ever envisioned, which makes him wonder if anyone would be interested in animating his story after all.

It's not that Rin particularly wants to have this conversation regarding their hypothetical near future. (What could Haruka possibly say? It's not like Rin has a fucking clue what's happened, or what should happen next.) But he cannot not have it either – if he doesn't, then Haruka probably won't, and although there's a certain kind of curious amusement to them forever tip-toeing around the things both of them know but refrain from admitting aloud, Rin sort of feels like they're long past the point where he'll consciously want to let Haruka get away with feigning obliviousness anymore.

An unreadable expectancy lights up on Haruka's face, and in the seconds that pass between the silence and his response, Rin cannot help but fast forward through everything he wishes Haruka would or would not say.

Were it be easier if Haruka expressed a desire to call it quits here? Probably, but Rin knows he isn't so lucky; maybe that's the biggest irony of his life, that Haruka won't let him run away from the things he needs, even when they are the things he doesn't necessarily consciously want. Haruka's too... simple, in the end, to care about being as self-conscious and self-involved as Rin has always been, and it's his most infuriating and most wonderful feature.

He knows Haruka's already decided on this, knows that since the second he allowed Rin to kiss him last night, it was too late to act like Haruka will turn him down again.

_Because the only one who ever rejected you was you, and there's nothing you can blame him for anymore_

Rin's eyes widen, slightly, and suddenly he realizes that he doesn't need Haruka's answer.

(Because when Haruka looks up at him, confusion and hesitancy and hopefulness and adoration all mixed into one sincere smile, the blue of his eyes ripples like in Rin's dream; and although it might take time, far more time than twenty-four hours to fix everything that's still fragmented somewhere in the hollows of Rin that no one else but him can ever heal, he knows that it's a smile borne out of faith.)

"We'll figure it out," Haruka breathes, and when that smile breaks into full bloom, Rin senses a feeling that wells up from somewhere deep within him, familiar and strange all at once;

_like a nursery rhyme, like a club photograph, like a tearful graduation ceremony and the taste of chlorine on his lips_

_hey, hey_

_did you know, back then I would have done anything for you_

_back then I believed in me, I believed in you_

_(I still do)_

 

 

\- fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I mentioned the possibility of a sequel, because I am really interested in the idea of writing about Rin and Haru's senior year; however, since the story was satisfactory enough on the front of bringing my boys back together as friends, there's a 99% chance I'll just start anew with a different series of fics (I am thinking of a season-based one, so 4 separate ones, as cliched as that is). So yeah, you won't get rid of me just yet orz
> 
> (If there's anything you want to chat about regarding fics or whatever, feel free to add/message me on tumblr @icecreambat btw, I always love talking about fic ideas and headcanons and stuff!)


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